


you are the only thing that's right about this broken world

by justwantedtodance



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heathers: The Musical References, Hurts So Good, Is Paul really infected?, One Shot, Post-Apotheosis (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals), Post-Canon, Song: Our Love is God (Heathers), Songfic, This is just one take, kinda sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwantedtodance/pseuds/justwantedtodance
Summary: Post "Inevitable." What possibly could have happened after the blackout. A few "Heathers" references and a whole lot of angst await you.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	you are the only thing that's right about this broken world

**Author's Note:**

> I've incorporated a few Tumblr prompts into this one from this list of 200.   
> https://drink-it-write-it.tumblr.com/post/189074732022/200-prompts
> 
> 25\. “I need you to know that you can trust me. Please.”  
> 28\. “Take one more step, and I snap her pretty little neck.”  
> 57\. “Never trust a man that can dance.”  
> 102\. “You don’t have to do this.”  
> 152\. “You’re safe. I won’t let them hurt you.”  
> 188\. “I would die before I let anything happen to you.”
> 
> Enjoy!

She let herself be blinded just a moment too long. How could she be so stupid, so naïve? This thing was doomed from the start, but Emma let herself believe she and Paul had survived this apocalypse, and now, she’s damned to become one of them. The Hive.

They drag her away, and she screams until her voice cracks. Wearily, she protests as Ted takes one of her arms and Hidgens the other. She doesn’t know where they’re taking her, but it surely can’t be good.

They aren’t gentle with her as they toss her into a chair in the center of the room, the single spotlight above her head stinging her eyes when her head is forced back, her mouth tipped open. She knows what’s coming and braces herself for the burn. Before anything happens, she’s looking up into her professor’s eyes now held hostage by this infection. Of course he would be the one to do it. It makes Emma fight harder, clench her jaw, and wrench away from Hidgens’s cold hand trying to subdue her. The cacophony of voices rises, and it is the moment of truth, her final fleeting moment of free will left.

“Stop.”

One voice breaks through the mass. She knows that voice. It can’t be.

“This isn’t how we do this. No, she has to _choose_ to become one of us. The Hive only takes those who are willing.” Paul takes a few steps forward, and the ones surrounding Emma retreat, slinking away into the shadows. Ted and Hidgens stay close though for fear that she may try to run. “Give her to me.” Ted releases her arms, and Hidgens helps her to stand while passing her off to Paul.

“What are you doing?”

Hidgens is the one to question him. Paul responds, “She isn’t willing yet. I think I can make her.”

Emma feels her stomach churn. Of course it’s now she chooses to think about the possible implications of that statement.

Ted stalks closer to Emma, a dangerous look in his glowing eyes. “Aw, but it’s no fun without a little struggle. What do you say, sweetheart? I know I can convince you to join us.”

“You’re sick,” she seethes through her teeth.

She begins to fight again as the taller man approaches, squirming in Paul’s grip. Paul tightens the arm around her shoulders while his other hand shoots up to her throat. Emma stills with a gasp. “Take one more step, and I snap her pretty little neck,” he growls.

“No! Not The Ingénue,” the rest of the mob cries in four-part harmony, all dramatically falling to their knees. The Ingénue? What the fuck does she look like, some kind of damsel in distress?! She turns her face up in disgust, even while on the verge of death, because no way in hell will she ever be some kind of waif, frail, soprano-y star of a fucking musical.

Paul releases her throat and pulls her along while she limps into a corner of the room furthest away from the others. “If you want your precious ingénue, you will be patient. I will do what needs to be done. Leave us.”

The Hive hums as they exit the room ushered by Bill, Ted bringing up the rear with a scornful glare at Paul as he slams the door behind him.

At last, they’re alone. And that’s when Emma finally lets herself cry.

She runs back to the chair as fast as she can with one bum leg and curls in on herself. She knows she can’t run, can’t go out and face the swarm of infected townspeople waiting in the hospital wings, but she can’t run very far from Paul either in this cadaverous cube. Paul follows her to the chair, not menacingly though. Begging won’t do much, but she tries.

“Paul… Paul, I know you’re in there somewhere. Y—you don’t have to do this. You know you hate this just as much or more than I do. Please don’t hurt me, Paul. Please—“

He kneels down to her level and brushes a piece of her fallen hair back from her face. “Emma. Emma, hey, shhh, it’s me.”

Amid the chaos, she never got to look into his eyes and see that they weren’t glowing. His eyes were always blue, a very bright blue, but now, they aren’t glowing like the professor’s or Ted’s. Could it be…? No, she can’t let herself be that foolish again. Emma shakes her head when Paul’s hand caresses her cheek.

“No, it’s not. It’s not you. The meteor, it—it got you, and—“

“No, it didn’t.” He pauses. “Well, not exactly.”

Emma sniffles. “What? What do you mean?”

“This infection, it has multiple ways of manifesting itself. When the meteor blew up, I _was_ infected but only by the spores. None of the blue shit ever got near me, so I’m still me, but when I breathe infected air, the spores, they… take their cue and activate inside of me. I can hold it off while the Hive is away, but once they come near, I become one of them.”

She still looks skeptical. “So, what exactly do we do then?”

“It means we have to create a diversion to get us the hell away from this town, away from any place that might even potentially be infected. The Hive is drawn to each other and knows when one of their own is near, so we have to get as far away from it as possible.”

“But what happens after? We can get away from it, but won’t it just come back?”

Paul sighs. “You know, I hadn’t thought that far yet. I just want to get out of here, and more importantly, get _you_ out of here.”

Emma’s pulse flutters in her neck as she stands on shaky legs and crosses the room to find the sharpest object to defend herself with, which unfortunately happens to be a tongue depressor. “Give me one good reason why I should believe you.”

“Emma, I know what you saw back there, but you have no reason to be scared of me. I would never hurt you, Em, I swear. I would go out doing triple time steps before I let anything happen to you.” She isn’t convinced, so Emma snaps the wooden stick in half and grits her teeth as Paul takes a step towards her. She’s ready to lunge at him, her good leg taking her weight forward.

“You know, they say to never trust a man who can dance, so the fact that you know what a triple time step is makes me makes me wonder if this is just a sick fucking game to you.”

Paul scrubs his hands over his face and pushes his hair back before venturing to take another step closer. “Seriously, Emma, do you think I ran into the head of a fucking hive mind for fun? No, I did it to save you. _You_ are what’s most important to me right now. I don’t care if those things puke in my mouth; what matters is that they don’t do that to you.” Her face softens minutely, and she drops her raised right arm just slightly.

Paul lowers his voice and closes the last bit of space between them, his hand gently stroking her blood-stained shoulder. “You don’t have to like me right now, but I need you to know that you can trust me. Please.”

She chokes back tears, swallowing the lump in her throat, and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Paul smiles and pulls her in gently for a hug. Emma immediately tenses and tries to push him away.

“Paul? Paul, what are you doing?”

He rubs her back and tries to soothe her. “Shh, just listen.” He begins to hum a tune, four notes in succession, over and over again. “Do you hear it?” Emma nods. “Now, sing it back to me.”

“You know I can’t—“

“Just try. You can do it, Emma.”

It’s shaky at first and a little sharp, but Paul encourages her as her voice grows stronger. She finds the pitch, and he takes her hands, singing with her in harmony.

All of a sudden, the humming is back in full force, growing stronger by the second.

“That’s it. We don’t have time to go through the whole song, but just follow my lead. We just have to hold them off long enough to get out of here, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Trust me?” Emma nods. “Good. Our love is God, baby.”

Paul takes Emma’s hands and leads her out into the hallway to the back exit of the hospital starting his song, the Hive accompanying him almost immediately.

He begins the verse, “I was alone. I was a frozen lake, but then, you melted me awake. See, now I’m crying too. You’re not alone…”

“You’re not alone,” Emma echoes quietly.

“And when the morning comes…”

“When the morning comes,” she sings, a little stronger.

“We’ll burn away that tear and raise our city here…”

“Raise our city here…”

And together, they sing, “Our love is God.”

They repeat the refrain as they dance with each other down the hall as gracefully as they can with Emma’s leg. She plays a convincing enough performance that the Hive doesn’t follow them, but they continue to sing even after the white walls of PIEP’s facility are long behind them to ward off any lingering Infected. Paul scoops her up after any shred of Hatchetfield or Clivesdale is but a speck of dust and carries her until he’s tired himself out.

“We can start and finish wars. We’re what killed the dinosaurs. We’re the asteroid that’s overdue. The dinosaurs choked on the dust. They died because God said they must. The new world needed room for me and you…”

He sets her feet down once they’ve reached a safe place for the night, but they’ll find out in the morning if they’re as safe as they assume. In an almost whisper, he speak-sings a final phrase to her.

“I worship you. I’d trade my life for yours. They all will disappear. We’ll plant our garden here.” He stops singing to say the last words in finality, tilting her chin up to him. “Our love is God.”

Emma takes a shaky breath in and lets herself sink into the armchair behind her, finally able to collapse and let the worry seep out of her bones, just for a moment.

“I can’t believe that, Em. You sold it so well, and you knew all the words… wait, how _did_ you know all the words?” Now it’s Paul’s turn to take caution. Emma is, of course, too exhausted to lift her head from the armrest, so her words are a bit muffled.

“I know that song. Zoey used to sing it in the break room all the time because she was auditioning for _Heathers_ over in Clivesdale.” She sits up and rests her head in her hand as Paul comes to sit in front of her on the ottoman. “I guess her never shutting up did something good because I learned it by osmosis. Well, actually, no, it would be diffusion because osmosis only happens through water, and—“

She’s cut off by Paul’s lips pressing against her own in a split-second kiss. Paul pulls back just as quickly as he leaned in, worried that he may have crossed a line. Emma’s mouth is open, and she’s staring at him with impossibly wide eyes.

“I’m sorry. Shit, Emma, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it just—“

It’s her turn to reciprocate, grabbing the back of his neck to bring him back to kiss her again. This time, it’s more passionate and desperate, the frantic fight for their lives infused into their kiss. Paul’s hand comes up to her hair as they kiss, and Emma moves onto the ottoman to straddle his lap, but her leg protests the motion, and her sounds of pleasure are quickly replaced by those of searing pain.

Paul scrambles to help ease the pressure on her leg, cradling her in his arms instead. She breathes through the pain syncing her breaths to his. After a moment, he asks, “You okay?”

“A little better now.” Emma takes a beat of silence before looking up at Paul. “We probably shouldn’t…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. You need to rest.”

“Paul, I’m fine, I just—“

“Sleep, Emma. I promise, I’ll be okay. Do you wanna stretch out on the couch?” Emma nods and wraps her arms around Paul’s neck, a silent gesture for him to carry her there. He would have either way, but he does appreciate her acquiescence to let him take care of her. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Emma lets her eyes fall shut, but she’s still on edge, her body thrumming with adrenaline. She expects that this whole thing is a setup and that she’ll become part of the fucking Hive in her sleep, but Paul told her that they don’t take anyone who isn’t willing. She has to want to be a part of it, and with her wits still about her, she’d rather die than sing another fucking show tune. Fiddling with some fringe on the pillow behind her head, Emma’s brain won’t shut off despite her numerous attempts to try. It’s not until Paul takes out the clip holding what’s left of her messy bun in place at the back of her head and runs his fingers through the knots in her hair that her breathing begins to slow and her mind begins to settle. When her chest rises and falls steadily, Paul leans over and kisses her temple.

“You’re safe, Em. I won’t let them hurt you,” he whispers.

What she doesn’t know is that while Paul can resist his urges to sing and dance when the Hive is far away, the spores eat at his insides the more he tries to stave them off. They gnaw at him like hungry vultures, and they must feast on something or run the risk of dying. Paul continues to fight it, no matter how badly his stomach aches or how awful the urge is to throw up.

Emma keeps him grounded, the back and forth of his hand in her hair keeps him sane. He watches her breathe through the night and prays to whatever God will take pity on him that this nightmare will end when the morning comes.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is my first venture writing for a new fandom and a new ship (that I will go down with to eternity!) I hope I did alright 🙈 I'm sure there will be more Paulkins fics to come!


End file.
